


Two-Timers

by kurushi



Category: Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective
Genre: Alternate Timelines, F/M, M/M, Multi, Multiple Partners, Post-Canon, fidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 02:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2796662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurushi/pseuds/kurushi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day, at seven in the morning or so, Jowd has two sets of memories. Just like that. It's fine if he gets a happy ever after, but trauma can change a person, and he's not sure how to reconcile two lives worth of choices and feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two-Timers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [laughingpineapple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughingpineapple/gifts).



> Laughingpineapple, when you mentioned that you preferred fidelity for this relationship, I was really taken with the idea of the re-set timeline, and how that might affect fidelity, guilt, love and desire. I hope it hits the right spots for you.
> 
> My thanks to my beta Flamebyrd, who really helped pummel this into something readable. Any remaining errors are my own.

After the end, things felt out of focus. Jowd distinctly remembered sitting in a metal box under the ocean, with an evil robot and no propulsion, hearing the metal ping and creak under the pressure of the water. Knowing that first Alma and then Kamila had died as a result of his own mistakes. That Cabanela was part of the chain of events, the start of it all. That if time re-set he'd still make love to Cabanela in the back of a police van, a pocketwatch digging into the back of his hip.

 

However, at the same time, he remembered that he'd spent the entire night sitting up in the kitchen, listening to his baby girl Kamila retch from some kind of stomach bug. The cat, Sissel, had been avoiding her with wide-eyed fear. It must have been the smell. Alma was away, and Jowd was running out of sick-leave, and it didn't help that young Lynne kept on calling up to discuss work.

 

At seven in the morning, half asleep, dawn rising outside the window, everything became double. It took a few seconds for Jowd to be sure that he was alive. That he was indeed in the living room, and that he wasn't going to find himself at the bottom of the ocean anytime soon. He checked on Kamila. Asleep, looking pale and sweat-soaked, but alive. Home. Safe. He slumped back down on the couch, rubbing a hand over his eyes. Sissel jumped up into his lap and licked a paw. Rubbed it over an ear.

 

_That was disorienting. Went a lot better than I thought it would, though. You've got a very warm lap, did you know?_

 

To Jowd's credit, he didn't jump up. He swallowed, and looked down at his cat.

 

“I remember... oh, hell.” He was getting a bit of a headache.

 

On the end table beside his elbow, a phone began to ring.

 

_Want me to get that?_

 

“You can pick up the phone?! You're a cat!”

 

_You never said that to me when you thought I was a ghost. Come on. That's got to be some kind of discrimination. And I can't pick up the phone. But I can knock that toy over, which will..._

 

“Okay, forget I asked.” Jowd picked up the phone. “Hello?”

 

“Jowd!” Alma. She sounded shaken, worried.

 

“It's okay. Kamila's okay.”

 

On the other end of the line, Alma sounded breathless. “No, not... I...”

 

Sissel cocked his head, and flicked his tail. _She died. Remember? Try to keep up, old man._

 

“Old man!”

 

“Huh?”

 

Jowd realised his gaffe the moment he'd made it. “Nothing, Alma. I'll tell you all about it later. Did you...?”

 

She gasped. “It wasn't a dream, then. What happened?”

 

_Tell her about me, go on!_ Sissel kneaded his claws into Jowd's thighs, and curled up in a ball. _Give me credit for that, at least. I saved her life. Well, unintentionally. Still counts! I didn't want the little lady to be lonely. That doggie would kill me, I'm sure. Or at least he'd yap all over the place._

 

“We... I think, that our fate was changed, somehow. Can you come home? Now?”

 

Alma was silent for a long time. “I'm glad, if that was the case. You're sure that this isn't the afterlife?”

 

“Well,” best not get clever with her. “No, we're alive. Trust me. Come home. Take care of Kamila. I'll catch up on my lost sleep. And then... we'll figure out what comes next.”

 

It was hard to get his head around it properly, being bone-tired and worried about Kamila. She'd kept some soup down, and Alma had slept through the night, so at ten Jowd found himself bundled into bed. He'd barely felt her fingers brush his forehead, before she was gone again. A light weight fell on his legs, over the quilt, as the kitten Sissel jumped up to join him.

 

_Sleep, Detective,_ Sissel purred, and flicked his tail until Jowd closed his eyes and fell deep down into fevered dreams.

 

Alma was in his arms, as she always had been. Soft skin and trusting eyes. His beautiful wife. She was cold in the grave. Cabanela was on top of him. Jowd was a widower, and he was going to be executed to protect his little girl, but that would never be enough to stop her from blaming herself. Tears leaked out of his eyes as Cabanela's rough jaw brushed along his collarbone.

 

When he woke up, it took time for the world to make sense again. The bed was solid, safe, and Sissel's claws were digging into his side. Jowd groaned, and pushed back the covers, tumbling the eternal kitten head over heels. A picture-frame rattled, and Jowd froze. Stared. “All these years, you've been-”

 

_What? You tall ones are remarkably slow at times. You can't expect me to wait now, can you? What if I needed to go out? You'd rather that I just go on the carpet?_

 

There were things Jowd could say. He'd been blaming Kamila's tricks and experiments, for the objects that he always found scattered in strange places. Sissel could just use the litter box, he was house-trained. None of them felt appropriate. “Never mind. Just... don't break anything.”

 

_No promises,_ Sissel mewed, and turned his face away. He stalked out of the room without a second glance back.

 

Kamila was smiling, sitting on the couch under a blanket, with a book in her lap. Sissel had managed to firmly settle himself down under the blanket at her side. Jowd felt a little unnerved when Sissel's eyes followed him from across the room.

 

Still, he was a father. He ruffled Kamila's hair, and kissed her forehead. “You doing okay today?”

 

Kamila nodded. “Yup! Mom took care of things.”

 

“She's a saint, that woman,” Jowd closed his eyes, and sighed.

 

Kamila swung her legs. “She missed out on all the interesting parts,” Kamila said to him.

 

Jowd held his breath. “What?!”

 

“Because she died first,” Kamila explained, as if they were discussing the pros and cons of the drawbridge on her lego castle, and not Alma's tragic and traumatic death. “She didn't even get to see the submarine! Oh! Do you think I'll be able to talk to Missile, like I can talk to Sissel?”

 

Sissel didn't say anything, just gazed out at Jowd with cat-like smugness. He purred.

 

“Sweetie, there's a lot that didn't happen around you, that night. I need to talk to your mother.”

 

“Okay,” Kamila said. “She's in the kitchen.”

 

Alma looked tired, but happy. She was running her fingers over the bench. Jowd wrapped his arms around her from behind, and breathed the smell of her hair in deeply when she leaned back into him.

 

“It's still so amazing. I died, so worried about the two of you. But also I didn't, and we had a wonderful party.”

 

Jowd nodded. “It feels strange. But, I can't complain, I suppose.”

 

She laughed, shrugged. “I suppose. Kamila says that you lived, for years, in a prison cell.”

 

Jowd nodded, slowly. “I did.” He wasn't sure what else to say about it. It had been hell. “There's something I've got to tell you. Alma, I don't know how to...”

 

She pressed a gentle hand over his own. “Just say it. It can't be worse than death, right?”

 

It could very well be. He had to say it, anyway. “I've slept with someone else.”

 

She went very still in his arms. “Was I dead? Was it, in that other reality?”

 

His mouth dried at the though that she'd had to ask, at all. “Yes, of course. I would never, never do that to you.”

 

She sighed, and ran her fingers over his. “I'm glad,” she didn't sound very glad. She sounded upset. Sad. Heartbroken.

 

“You don't sound happy. Alma, I...”

 

“Shh,” she said. She kept stroking his arm gently, leaning against him. “Just thinking of you without me, it hurts. I can't imagine how you'd be, after my death, but I can imagine how broken I would be if I was in your place. I... did it help?”

 

“Huh? No. Not in that way. I was in prison for most of that time. It was the night that my execution was brought forward. Just last night. Cabanela, he...” Tried to buy Jowd time. He was one of the only friends Jowd had left in the world. He was throwing his life away, breaking his own heart, in order to correct a mistake he felt he had made. He hadn't blamed Jowd, for taking that man's life in the park that day. There had been a huge feeling there, something more than desire or love, and Jowd didn't have words for it.

 

“Oh.” Alma's shoulders shook with surprised laughter. “Oh, him. Well, I can see the attraction. So it was one last hurrah? Taking what joy you could, on death row?” She was teasing him, with that lilt in her voice.

 

“I will have you know that death row was a very relaxing place. I became an artist, over the years. I had a lot of chicken dinners.”

 

She hummed. “And you do like your chicken dinners. Well. And did your Cabanela die? Will he remember it?”

 

“Huh? Oh, right. I'm not sure. I'd have to ask Sissel.”

 

As if on cue, the fridge door swung open. Alma jumped, put a hand to her mouth. “Oh! It's almost his dinner time, too!”

 

Jowd looked around, but Sissel was nowhere to be seen. Odd.

 

_Come on. I'm starving here._

 

Jowd jumped, at that. “You're not even in the room!”

 

_Right. Because ghosts can't jump through walls. Yeesh._

 

“Are you talking to Sissel, now?” Alma smiled, more intrigued than horrified. “What's he saying?”

 

“It's er, dinner time.”

 

_Yup!_

 

Alma obligingly filled Sissel's bowl, and put the can back in the fridge.

 

_You could give me the whole thing one day. I mean, just to be nice. You get a whole chicken to yourself._

“What's he saying now?” Alma kneeled down, rubbing Sissel behind his ears as he sniffed at his food.

 

“Nothing you couldn't guess just from looking at him,” Jowd smirked.

 

Having a family, you grew used to interruptions. With Sissel fed, Alma wanted to check on Kamila, and then there was dinner to make. Alma helped Kamila get ready for bed, making her wash her hair and change into new pyjamas with a dirty look at Jowd. He raised his hands, helplessly. Like he'd have been able to make his clever girl do anything she didn't want to.

 

Sissel curled up at the end of Kamila's bed, yawning and refusing to answer. So Jowd and Alma were left in their own bed, facing each other in the darkness.

 

“Was it... better?” Alma ran her soft hand down his bare arm, leaving tingles in its wake. She didn't need to say what she meant.

 

“It was different,” Jowd said. “Rushed. Not much talking.”

 

She raised herself on one elbow. “No, I mean, did he penetrate you?”

 

Trust his wife, to focus on what really mattered. Not the emotions, or the moment, but the fine details. She was probably going to fantasise about it all, later. There were some things, apparently, that Jowd really didn't want to talk about with his wife. “Does it matter?”

 

She huffed out her frustration, falling onto her back. “I'm just curious. Did he do any fancy footwork?”

 

Jowd snorted. “No, though I wouldn't put it past him, in a roomier location.”

 

“Well, that's good to know.” Alma rolled into him, shoulders shaking with laughter.

 

“You're taking this well.”

 

“Well, you know what I said, when we married. Over my dead body.” She giggled a little, looked up at him with her eyes shining, trying to hold it in. Seeing if it was okay to make a joke about it.

 

“Well, I wouldn't say over, so much as in the very broad vicinity.” It was okay to laugh. She was alive, and safe, and even if she had been the whole time. Even if he could remember every precious day with her smile, he held her tighter and closer than usual.

 

“But let me know,” she poked him on the nose, “if you ever did go for it in this timeline. I'd want to watch.”

 

Jowd smiled at her, drew her in for a kiss, and hoped that had been a joke.

 

The third day after they had woken up with memories of two parallel lifetimes, the phone rang. Jowd had a lapful of enthusiastic kitten. He was dangling a toy mouse just out of Sissel's reach, in both respects. They'd been testing Sissel's range at first, but at some point it had turned into a game.

 

Alma picked it up the phone, and nodded. “Yes, that's right, he used up some vacation time. Kamila wanted us both around. But since when do you call?”

 

Jowd froze. He wasn't ready to face Cabanela, and the tone of Alma's voice made it clear he was calling. Sissel seized the toy in his mouth, and set it down between his paws. He meowed.

 

_You're dead boring when you're gathering your thoughts_ , Sissel said. He licked his paws for good measure.

 

“Is grooming yourself supposed to insult me? If you need a bath, I'm happy to give you a...”

 

The mouse hit Jowd in the face.

 

In the corner of the room, Alma giggled. “No, no. I haven't even started cooking. Come on over.”

 

Cabanela swept in carrying chicken take-out. He put it down on the coffee table, and before Jowd could point out that Sissel would be very much interested in that food and it should be put on an empty table with no chairs or light fittings nearby, Cabanela had swept one long, thin arm around Jowd's shoulders, and one around Alma's waist.

 

“Here we all are, my darlings. Alma. Jowd baby!”

 

There was something frantic in Cabanela's face. A tightness in the corner of his eyes.

 

“I knew you were just fiiine, see? I didn't want to come bothering you before now.” Like usual, he danced around the things he didn't want to say. That he'd mourned Alma as much as any of them had. That he'd seen Jowd go off to the bottom of the ocean, and certain death, alone. That Kamila had been kidnapped, just like Lynne, by the Manipulator, Yomiel.

 

Jowd opened his mouth, but Alma talked right over the top of him. “You worried about us. I have to admit, after everything that Kamila and Jowd have told me, I was worried about you, too. According to,” Alma cleared her throat. “According to our kitten Sissel, you were shot.”

 

Jowd's heart nearly stopped beating. He'd never heard the full story about that, had he? He'd have to ask Sissel about that later. Or Lynne, who seemed to know everything that happened that night.

 

“Oh, my dear! You wound me with your kindness.” Cabanela simpered in her direction, which gave Jowd time to appreciate how tightly Cabanela was holding on to him, and how lucky he was that Alma had cut him off. Jowd had this unfortunate habit of using his wit to get out of discussing the hard stuff. Jowd put a hand on Cabanela's shoulder, just to feel it rise and fall.

 

“The greatest blow I ever received, in that other timeline, was learning of your untimely death.”

 

“Oh?” Alma arched an elegant eyebrow. “That's not what Jowd told me.”

 

Cabanela burst out laughing, clapping hard on both of their shoulders. “Ahh, now that's what I love about you two so much! It's like you share the one dirty mind!”

 

“No we-” All right, so Jowd might have said that, if he was in Alma's place. Luckily for him, Kamila had shown up, and with one last, gentler pat, Cabanela was kneeling down to embrace her.

 

“Liiittle lady! How are you? And where is this kitty that I hear so much about? I owe him a nice neck scratch.”

 

As if he'd been listening all along – probably had been – Sissel arched and purred and curled his way through the room, brushing against Cabanela's trouser leg and leaving little black hairs in his wake.

 

Over dinner, Jowd noticed that Cabanela spent a lot more time just watching than he usually did. He watched Alma encouraging Kamila to eat some salad, while Kamila frowned and just pointed at Jowd's plate. Cabanela watched Jowd, and he watched Sissel curling his tail around the legs of the table. He looked a little teary towards the end, and even brushed a finger along his eyelashes.

 

Jowd chewed slower, more thoughtfully than usual, on his last few mouthfuls.

 

“It's so good,” Cabanela's throat sounded hoarse, “to see you all here.”

 

“You were here on the weekend,” Kamila pointed out. “We had a barbeque, remember?”

 

Cabanela nodded. “Yes, yes. Nevertheless, I'm still not sure which version of my memories feels more real, or less real.”

 

“Both are, silly,” Kamila said.

 

Jowd made eye contact with Alma, and she nodded. They'd talked about Kamila, were glad she had adjusted so well.

 

“No, I meeean to say, my dear. I'm not sure which version of myself I am deep down inside. I became pretty twisted, you see.”

 

Kamila nodded. “Sissel says Yomiel feels that way too, sometimes.”

 

Jowd set his cutlery down before he finished. Alma swallowed, and Kamila gasped, putting a hand over her mouth.

 

“Sissel,” Jowd said calmly, “You've been visiting the prison. What else have you been doing, without telling us?”

 

The ceiling fan wobbled a little, and Sissel's voice echoed in Jowd's head. From the looks of it, in all of their heads except for Alma's.

 

_What? He fed me tuna._ Tuna. _Plus, we forgave him. Lynne visits him all the time._

 

“What Lynne does and does not do isn't my responsibility when I'm not on the clock,” Which was a lie, Jowd always felt responsible, but that didn't make for a very good argument. “But why are you talking to Kamila about it, and not everyone?”

 

The fan spun. _Well, you've been quite... busy, with your wife, recently._

 

There was a clatter of crockery as Cabanela fumbled his knife. Alma looked at him in concern. Jowd just looked down at his near-empty plate, appetite ruined.

 

Kamila cocked her head, curious. “What's going on?”

 

Alma smoothed her hair down, and smiled gently. “Nothing, dear. A lot of heavy feelings. I'll explain it later. Provided that your father explains what was said to me.”

 

“I could-”

 

“No, sweetie, thank you. We need to talk about it together, before we talk to you. But I promise, I'll explain it to you.”

 

Like hell you will, Jowd thought it, but he didn't say it out loud. He gathered their plates and cleared them to the kitchen.

 

“Dear, that's my-” Alma started, but Cabanela interrupted her.

 

“I'll go help him. Why don't you two looovely ladies decide on dessert?”

 

Jowd scraped the scraps into the bin, and dumped the plates into the sink. He kept his back to the doorway, but Cabanela always signposted his entrances. Light, tappy footsteps and a shuffle-slide. A slender arm reached around Jowd, to add the last plate to his pile for washing, and Jowd held his breath as the hairs on his arms tingled.

 

“It's good, to see you home with Alma. I could cry all over you, baby. I take back what I said, in the truck. I never loved you. I just say that to all the death row inmates.” Cabanela was trying to joke, but his voice sounded thick with emotion.

 

Jowd clenched his fists, and closed his eyes, and did not answer, and Cabanela left as quickly as he'd arrived.

 

They were doing a lot of talking in bed, alone. Jowd had scrubbed his arms in the shower until they were pink, and Alma had seen Cabanela off home with a wide smile.

 

“I would never cheat on you,” Jowd said.

 

“I know,” Alma smoothed the blankets down, and slid into bed beside him.

 

“I can't take back what happened, and I can't stop wanting him.”

 

“I know,” she said. “And you know I want to watch.”

 

It was a joke, but it wasn't. She was smiling tenderly, a little sadly. She ran her long fingers through the curls of hair that always fell forward over his forehead.

 

“That's all you want to do, huh.” he didn't feel confident enough to ask.

 

She frowned, and changed the topic. “He loved me, before you did. When we were younger.”

 

She trailed her fingers in circles and loops over his chest, nails catching and tugging gently on his chest hair. He closed his eyes, and let her talk. Just listened.

 

“And then, I chose you. Married you. Had a child with you. I died. All these little moments where he lost me in different ways. You chose me. You married me. You died inside when you shot that man in the park. You sent yourself to jail, to death row. You ran off to board a submarine, and you left him behind. But now, where we are, most of that never happened.”

 

“You think he's happy?”

 

She shrugged. “I think that he's telling himself that. Which is pointless, because it's very clear to me, that he never lost either of us. We could have it all. It wouldn't be cheating.”

 

“You thought you had to choose,” Jowd said, with a horrible realisation turning his stomach. “All this time, you've-”

 

She laid a finger over his lips. “Shhh. We've got enough might-have-beens between us that we don't need any more.”

 

Her hair fell into the shadow of the blankets, hiding her face from him. He traced his own fingers along her jaw, under her chin, to feel her there. To feel her shiver against him.

 

“Lynne said, sometimes, she misses taking care of Kamila.”

 

Alma settled closer to him. “Is that so,” she said thoughtfully. “Perhaps she'd like to take her for a weekend, then. I can think of a few ways we could keep ourselves busy.”

 

Jowd wasn't that sure about it all, how it worked. What Kamila might think, when she finally found out. What things would become. Whether there was a line between friendship and love, or desperation and desire. Whether he would lose Alma and Cabanela to each other, or whether everything would come reflected back at Jowd, joy multiplied. He had been given a blessing, a window of time in which all the normal rules of life had been broken. It really was possible, as it happened, to have it all.

 

He let Alma make the phone call, pressing his hands down over his hair, pacing in the living room.

 

“He's coming,” Alma said, in that quiet way that she had when she was at peace with the world. “He said he'll be a short while. I think he wants to woo us with roses.”

 

_For heaven's sake, call Lynne before he gets here. I'm not sticking around for this!_

 

Sissel climbed up onto the top of the bookshelf, and curled up into a little ball. It looked to the world like he was taking a cat-nap, except of course that he wasn't breathing.

 

Alma made the call. Jowd was too busy holding his ribs. He couldn't help it. There was a cat in the phone lines, and his best friend was probably buying a guest-gift to bring to their first threesome with his wife. Mostly, it was the cat in the phone lines. Jowd never laughed quietly, it was always a guffaw that shook his whole chest.

 

Jowd was still laughing when the knock came at the door, and Alma's gentle hands pulled him towards it, towards Cabanela and the future.


End file.
